


THE HOUSE OF JADE

by Anne_Fairchild



Category: Da Vinci's Demons
Genre: A/U, Alternate Universe, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character death in old age, Depiction of slightly graphic sexual violence, M/M, Physical/Sexual Abuse Referenced, Snuggling & Cuddling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 15:24:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15512787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne_Fairchild/pseuds/Anne_Fairchild
Summary: AU set in 1920s/30s Shanghai, China. Businessman Leonard Riley rescues an emotionally and physically damaged Gerry (Girólamo) from a brothel. It was meant to be.





	THE HOUSE OF JADE

There are none alive today who remember the House of Jade. But those who survived Shanghai in the 1920s and 1930s invariably told their stories to family and friends. There was no concept of privacy, or secrets, in that time and place. Servants heard and saw everything. The lives and habits of Westerners were of more interest to the Chinese then, as China had much less experience with the West in that era. This being so, the story of the Englishman and the Italian was remembered, and passed on. Not least because it resonated with the Chinese as a representation of the ultimate harmonious balance of good and evil, yin and yang.

  
                                                                           ***

  
The House of Jade was a brothel. Most of its residents were female, but a handful were male. It was neither a high-class, exclusive house nor a poor house. That being said, all tastes were catered to, and a visitor’s experience might range from an evening of fine European food and wine and the company of a beautiful, accomplished and well-dressed girl, to a 10 minute fuck with a wretched creature for a few yuan.

The customers on offer were managed by Mistress Zhao, who was also the house’s hostess. Various attendants, a cook, bouncers, and several other workers kept the house running.

A new customer stepped through the door one evening, accompanied by a note of introduction from an associate of Mr Du of Green Gang notoriety. He was an Englishman, a recent arrival in the city who owned a large import-export business. That he was known to Mr Du spoke of other, less legal and more dangerous interests. Mr Du was a formidable patron indeed to have in Shanghai. His name opened most doors, as it did at the House of Jade.

Mr Leonard Riley introduced himself to Mistress Zhao with every observance of Chinese etiquette. If he had not been long in the city, he had taken the time to get to know Chinese culture. He was generous with compliments and money. The first night he came, he socialized in the salon before he chose a young woman. He took notice then, it was said, of one of the male residents, sitting silent in a corner.

This man was not Chinese, or even half-Chinese, as the other House males were. He was European. Not many knew how he had come to the House, and no one knew why, only that he had not come by force. These things made him an oddity, so he was often commented upon by the servants.

At the second visit of Mr Riley, he asked Madame Zhao about the European. He was very much taken, she told him quickly and firmly, by a regular customer who would be arriving soon. He was called Gerry, and he was, he claimed, from Italy. Riley deduced from her manner that Gerry’s customer paid well, and that she was afraid of him. He took his time in the salon, wanting a look at the man.

Sixtus Falconer was an Englishman like Riley, a fairly fit-looking, bald man in his 60s who dressed well, with a commanding, rather dismissive air and a hint of cruelty about the mouth and eyes. He claimed to be an investment banker, though he was obtrusively accompanied by a rather brutish-looking bodyguard. Riley took a dislike to him on sight. A self-important man who believed himself superior and meant to be obeyed by any means necessary.

Falconer spoke sharply to Madame Zhao, who turned and rapped out something to an attendant. In a moment, Gerry was brought into the room. Wearing a high leather collar, attached to a chain-leash. Riley was not too surprised at Falconer’s preference, but he winced inwardly for Gerry, who stood silent and stoic.

Falconer pulled hard on the chain and half-dragged a choking Gerry towards the stairs. Riley’s lip curled in distaste and disdain as they passed. The gesture earned Gerry an elbow in the ribs and a vicious yank on the chain. Riley’s hands clenched in anger, but he could only let it pass. He was becoming concerned about this stranger without ever having had him.

Riley took one of the girls upstairs, but his physical business with her was somewhat perfunctory. He gave her money for herself, which Madame Zhao would not see, and asked about Gerry and Falconer.

The girls felt sorry for Gerry, whose actual name was more difficult for them to say. He was Italian, he said, but he spoke decent Mandarin as well as English. He said little about himself - said little at all, really - and they only knew that he had come to the House on his own. It was guessed that perhaps he owed a gambling debt. He seemed to be a cultured man, and ill-suited for the place. He was kind to the girls when he could be, and they generally liked him.

Falconer was a cruel man who seemed to come only to pay for the privilege of beating and abusing Gerry. He was of little or no use to other patrons after he’d been with Falconer. Madame Zhao knew this, though she offered him anyway. Sometimes, he was chosen and had to go with another customer bruised and bleeding. It was not known if Falconer had a protector among the triad gangsters, but Madame Zhao was certainly afraid of him, and the girls understood why.

When Riley went downstairs, Gerry was back in the salon. There was a bruise on his face and a cut on his lip, and angry marks where the collar had dug into his neck. His eyes were lifeless, yet showed a flash of fear when he saw Riley gazing at him, doubtless afraid he would need to perform again that night in some way.

Determined, Riley sought out Madame Zhao. He purchased Gerry’s time for the rest of the evening, and told her that Gerry would have no more customers that night. He might, perhaps, have chosen to introduce himself to Gerry then, but he did not trust himself to speak to him that night, and he left. But he now had at least one spy in the house who would tell him whether or not Madame Zhao kept her word.

It seemed to the unseen household that after that evening, Riley began to become obsessed with the European. The next time he came, he attempted to buy Gerry for the evening again, but Madame Zhao would not allow it. She feared Falconer more than the polite, soft-spoken Riley.

Falconer had apparently learned of Riley’s interest, and knew he was in a power struggle with a rival. A rival he believed he could despatch with ease. However, muscle men he sent after Riley came back reporting failure. The man was well-protected, and had important friends. He was not going to be frightened away. That meant his only retaliation was through Gerry, who suffered even more for the Englishman’s interest.

One evening, Riley stopped in to the house to inquire after Gerry, to find that Falconer had only just left. Madame Zhao hesitated, but reluctantly allowed Riley to buy him for a few hours. She directed him to an empty room and told him Gerry would be there shortly. He watched her go into another room, and heard her speak sharply.

Riley came up behind her, pushed her out of the way, and went into the room. The sheets of the bed were bloody. Gerry lay curled on the bed, trying to sit up but unable to manage it. Riley took Madame Zhao roughly by the elbow and spoke to her in a low voice. It was not known exactly what he said, but part of it was clearly a threat involving Mr Du’s associates and the House.

Gerry was to be moved to the other room immediately and a doctor would be called for, also immediately. Falconer was never to be alone with Gerry, or be allowed to buy his body, again. Ever. Or Madame Zhao herself would suffer the consequences. Food and drink was to be sent to the room, and clean clothes. If any retaliation towards Gerry occurred, or there was further mistreatment or neglect, Mr Riley would be most displeased.

It appeared to the household that Madame Zhao was at last more afraid of bringing the wrath of the Green Gang upon herself and the House than she was afraid of Falconer. And perhaps she herself had sickened of what was happening in her House, and wanted to be rid of the man.

Gerry was carried to Riley’s room and laid on the bed on clean rags and towels. He was given water, and some of the blood cleaned from his body by the time a doctor arrived, so that his injuries could be attended to. Riley at first was going to leave the doctor to do his work alone, but changed his mind and stayed. He wanted to know just what injuries Falconer had inflicted.

Gerry had suffered some potentially serious internal injuries, the doctor said, caused by the trauma of an unknown object. The expression on Riley’s face at this information, it was said, became truly frightening. One of Gerry’s fingers was broken. He probably had other unseen injuries as his torso was covered with bruises. There were various facial cuts and bruises.

With proper care and no more abuse, the doctor emphasized, he would likely recover. He left a prescription for some Chinese medicines, and of course recommended the use of opiates for pain.

Gerry was conscious, but clearly in pain. Riley brought a chair to the bedside and sat, gazing sadly at the abused man.

“My name,” he told Gerry softly, “is Leonard. Leo. Shall I speak to you in Italian, or English?” Great dark eyes stared at him, wary and fearful.

“I mean you no harm. And I will _never_ touch you - do to you - as he has done. I would be your friend, if you would let me. Please - I know you’re afraid, but try not to be afraid of _me_.”

“Why?” The word sounded rusty, and it was in English.

“Because your beauty, and your suffering, has touched my soul,” Riley answered, simply and honestly. The fear in Gerry’s eyes was greater now.

“I will not use your body to please myself, and _I will not hurt you_. But I cannot deny that your beauty has touched my heart, or that it is in part why you are here now, in this room. Know that I am not just another version of him, to use you for my pleasure. That is _not_ what I seek. I know you have no reason to believe me yet. But I’m going to keep telling you until you see that you can believe it.”

The beautiful eyes watched him in silence. With a sigh, he reached out to brush the hair from Gerry’s face. He flinched reflexively at the gesture, before he was even touched. Riley sighed again in sadness.

“Are you hungry, or thirsty? I doubt you will be wanting to sit up any time soon.”

“No.” The word came quickly.

“I’m going to take that as a yes to the former and a no to the latter. You’re skin and bones. You must be hungry.” Riley pushed the pillows up behind his head to raise it a little. He picked up a bowl of broth with meat that had been brought. With one hand he supported Gerry’s head and with the other, held the bowl to his lips. He kept the nourishment to sips so he couldn’t wolf it down and make himself ill.

Gerry couldn’t stop himself from groaning at the pleasure in swallowing the steaming warmth. When the broth was gone, Riley picked up a bowl of rice and chopsticks and fed him small bites, slowly, not letting him eat it all. Gerry’s eyes did not leave his face. He began to shiver.

“Are you cold?” Riley asked him. At first he was afraid to answer, but then he nodded. Riley went to the door and shouted in Mandarin. In a few minutes, a small brazier was brought into the room, alight with glowing coals. A blanket was also brought, which Riley snugged gently around him.

“It’s best if you sleep now. They won’t let him come back here. They’ll care for you until I return tomorrow. Just do as they tell you, which is nothing more than eat, sleep and heal. I’ll come every day.” Riley picked up the bottle by the bedside, and put half a dropperful of laudanum into a glass of water as Gerry watched him. When Riley held his head up, he drank it eagerly, knowing it meant relief of his pain, and sleep. Riley settled him back into the bed and pulled the soft sheets and blanket up around him.

“What is your name, Gerry?” Riley asked gently.

His eyelids drooping, he spoke, his voice already slightly slurred from the drug.

“My name is…Girólamo. It…same as Gerry in English. Giró.” His voice was low and pleasant, if weak. “The Chinese cannot say it.”

“I’ll be back tomorrow, Giró. Sleep, and let them look after you.” Riley stood, lightly brushing Giró’s hand as he left.

Firm orders were left and money changed hands. The girl who had first told him about Gerry was to be his nurse during the day, when there were fewer customers. She would feed him and dress him and tend to his wounds and medicines. No one but the girl, Shen-Shen, and the doctor, were to be allowed near him.

                                                                              ***

When Riley returned the next afternoon the room was tidy, and warm. Giró was clad in clean, warm nightclothes. Although he was not a small man, he still looked small and diminished in the bed, drawn up into himself in sleep. He had eaten twice more, Shen-Shen reported, and had taken his medicines. He was still very stiff and in much pain with many bruises, but with the laudanum he was able to sleep.

Riley dismissed her and sat by the bed as he had the day before, watching Giró sleep. He wondered why the man had come to be in this place, as others had wondered. Thick dark lashes rested against his bruised cheek. His lips, soft and palest pink, parted slightly. One arm cradled his head, the other unconsciously protected his face, even in his drugged sleep.

Riley fought the desire to touch him, not wanting him to wake before time. He simply sat and watched, and fell more deeply under the spell of the stranger whose protection he had undertaken.

When at last Giró stirred, stretched gingerly and opened his eyes, fear and uncertainty played across his features when he registered Riley’s presence. Less fear than the day before, perhaps, but it was still there. Riley understood he could expect little else at this point.

“Are you better, Giró?” he asked.

“Yes.” Quickly, again.

“You don’t need to lie to me,” Riley told him gently.

“A little,” Giró amended.

“Are you still in much pain?”

“Y-es.”

“And your pain…inside; is that still bad as well?” At this question, Giró looked away and did not answer. “I’m sorry. He’ll pay for it,” Riley assured him.

Shen-Shen knocked softly, and came into the room with a tray of food similar to the previous day’s, and a pot of tea. She indicated that it was time for her to medicate his wounds.

“Thank you, Shen-Shen. I will do it. You may look after yourself for a while,” Riley told her, giving her a few coins. She pantomimed what he should do, bowed to them and left.

“As yesterday?” Riley asked, indicating the food. No response, as if Giró was afraid he might say the wrong thing. Silently, Riley again moved the pillows to raise his head a little, and feed him the broth, which he was allowed to drink more quickly now that his stomach was getting used to nourishment. He sipped some tea while it was still hot, drawing strength from its comforting warmth. Riley fed him the rice, again in small bites, with pieces of meat and vegetables. He chewed delicately, taking care not to gulp the food although he most likely wanted to. He probably hadn’t had this much food in a meal since he’d come to this place.

The last was a cup of a strong-smelling herbal liquor, which it was clear without a word that Giró would have liked to refuse, but didn’t. Doing what he was told to do without protest had become second nature to him in this place. This made Riley’s ministrations easier, but fed his guilt. He had to undress Giró and knew he would not like it, but at the same time would do nothing because he was powerless in more ways than one.

“Do you remember what I told you yesterday, Giró?” Riley asked, untying his jacket and pulling it gently off his shoulders. He was met with a slightly puzzled look. Some things were remembered then, but not all. “I said that I would never hurt you as he has hurt you; that I don’t want to hurt you, ever. So, you must allow me to do this - only what Shen-Shen has done for you - and try to believe I won’t hurt you. All right?” Giró nodded almost imperceptibly, uneasy as Riley’s fingers loosened the ties of his bottoms and slid them down off his hips.

Riley drew back the covers, then rose and opened the drapes enough to allow some daylight to spill into the room. Too late, he realized that to Giró’s drug-dilated pupils, the light might be painful.

“Keep your eyes closed if you like,” Riley told him. Seeing the many bruises on Giró’s body in the light, he hissed in angry sympathy as he gently laid cloths wrung out in a medicated potion over the marks. After he had done this over all the bruises and let the medicine seep into Giró’s body, he put the bowl and cloths aside and picked up a pot of pleasantly herbal-smelling unguent.

He touched Giró as gently as he could, but he wanted to be sure the salve was going to penetrate the skin. When he was finished, he offered Giró the laudanum again, and he took it. Of course he would. Anything to let him escape from his reality, even for a few hours.

“Do you play chess?” Riley asked.

“Yes. But not for a long time.” Giró drowsy and dreamy and relaxed was very hard for Riley to resist.

“When you’re feeling better, we’ll play.”

“Mahjong?” Giró whispered.

“If you like,” Riley told him, smiling. “Goodbye for now, Giró. Sleep well.”

  
                                                                         ***

Over the next week, Riley visited daily. Giró improved slowly. He became able to sit and to stand, though he still appeared weak and unsteady. More nourishing food was added to his diet. His doses of laudanum decreased as his bruises began to fade. He still clearly didn’t know what to make of Riley, who could see him wondering, behind the huge dark eyes, what his debt would be. If Riley were Giró, he thought, he’d wonder too, no matter what anyone said. There were very few free rides in the world. Riley wondered if, among the things Giró did remember about that first day was his revelation that Riley found him beautiful. That would certainly discomfit him, but Riley had decided that he should begin honestly.

At a certain point, Riley stopped his almost ritualized of feeding Giró. He had the feeling that he was being allowed to do it because Giró simply wouldn’t say no to anything Riley wanted him to do. He badly wanted to give the man back some autonomy. And yet - there was that in his eyes, sometimes, and in his responses to the feeding, that came close to kindling a fire in Riley’s belly. A hint of sensuality that Riley couldn’t decipher between natural or deliberate; perhaps the smallest glimpse of the man he had been before he came to the House of Jade. It gave him a flicker of hope that some day their relationship could be what he longed for - an equal, willing, loving partnership.

Most times, Riley beat him at chess, but never at mahjong. There was little off about his strategy per se, but his memory of the rules of chess was faulty compared to his understanding of mahjong, which he had played, he said, since he came to China. Riley knew better than to ask him of his past, or why he had come to the House and allowed himself to be so abused. If he insisted, he would get only fearful silence or lies, and he wanted neither of those. Some day he might come to know, but he could also live without knowing.

Riley had not yet put much thought into what he actually wanted to do about Giró. He could take him away from the House of Jade to his own house in the International Concession housing the British and the Americans, or let him stay on at the Jade until he got to know him better. He might, after all, turn out to be not as intelligent as Riley guessed, or be a thief or other petty criminal, or just disappoint him in some way. He didn’t think so, from all he’d observed, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to make such a decision yet. Giró’s spirits were a little better now, but Riley suspected his natural state of mind was of purposeful reticence. He was a man intent on keeping his secrets as best he could. And there was Falconer, who would not sit quietly for long when access to his toy had been cut off.

Fate stepped in. Fate, chance and luck were all regarded as very important in Chinese culture.

One morning a couple of weeks into Giró’s recovery, Riley received a phone call from a hysterical Shen-Shen. Falconer’s thugs were trying to break into the House of Jade to take Gerry away with them. If something wasn’t done very quickly, it would end badly. Riley had a split second to realize that if he didn’t take instant action, he would never see Giró again. He picked up the phone and called in a favor, asking for men to go to the House of Jade quickly. Then he put a fresh clip of ammunition into his gun, tucked it into his trousers, and drove at break-neck speed to the House.

He jumped out of the car before it arrived, and slipped around to the back of the house. Falconer’s men had apparently not thought they would meet much resistance. There was only one man guarding the rear entrance. Riley gave him a sharp chop to the neck that might or might not have broken it, and the man went down like a sack of rice.

Riley crawled inside through an open transomed window that Shen-Shen had shown him, when he’d asked her about ways in and out of the house. He crept up the back stairwell, hearing raised voices below and Madame Zhao pleading with someone. The door to Giró’s room was open. From what he could see, Shen-Shen lay - unconscious or dead - just inside the door. Two men were trying to wrestle Giró out of the room, but he was fighting for his life - kicking, biting, no holds barred.

One of the men saw Riley’s approach. Annoyed by Giró’s efforts, he decided to end the struggle and exit quickly, assuming he and his cohort would easily silence Giró and stop Riley. The thug back-handed Giró in the face and Riley saw a spray of blood from Giró’s nose. He also pulled and twisted his arm, hard, and Riley knew from the scream Giró let out that he’d probably broken it.

Riley pulled his gun out and leveled it at the man, who charged him, dropping Giró to the floor like a rag doll. Riley pulled the trigger, hitting him squarely in the chest. In a second, he had the gun pointed at the other man - who wisely backed away with his hands raised and fled the room. Riley knelt beside Shen-Shen and felt for a pulse in her neck. He smiled at Giró, who was watching him, indicating she was alive.

Another man came up behind him, calling out to him. This was Mr Du’s man; the house was secured. He knelt beside Giró then, supporting his body, trying not to touch his injured right arm.

“It’s all right now. You’re safe,” he murmured into Giró’s ear. He was intent on getting Giró to a doctor or hospital to see to his arm before the news of what had happened was all over Shanghai. He spoke to Du’s man and the two of them carried Giró down the stairs. They would take him to a hospital controlled by the Green Gang, often used to patch up their men.

Madame Zhao was injured, being tended to by several of the girls. They stepped over two bodies on their way out the door. Riley told one of the girls to go upstairs and see to Shen-Shen.

Riley did his best not to jostle Giró’s arm getting him into the car. He’d taken his handkerchief and placed it gently under Giró’s bleeding nose. His face looked gray with pain and shock, eyes closed and lips drawn in a thin line. His breathing was rapid. Riley feared for him; he’d suffered so much within a short period of time, and the thought of something like this happening must have been with him from the beginning, though he’d never said a word.

The problem of Falconer had not gone away, and Riley cursed himself for not understanding the seriousness of the situation. He hadn’t wanted any lives lost, but at least three of Falconer’s men were now dead, one certainly at Riley’s own hand. Falconer was going to declare an all-out war with him over Giró. That couldn’t be allowed, for the sake of Giró’s life and his future. It had to end now. He spoke a few words to Mr Du’s associate, and received a silent nod in reply.

As before, Riley insisted on being present when the doctor examined and x-rayed Giró. He was given something for the pain while they waited for the results, and injection of some fluids to counter his shock, and his color improved slightly. His arm would need to be set under sedation.

Aware that he was overstepping boundaries Giró might not be comfortable with, Riley couldn’t stop himself. He sat beside him and soothed him by wiping a wet towel over his face and neck, holding his uninjured hand, telling him he would be fine and trying to make himself believe it. _Just live, Giró. Don’t give up now_.

The Chinese found his actions curious, especially since they were aware that Giró had been a resident at the House of Jade. Not curious or unusual for a Chinese, as ‘the passion of Longyang’, referencing an ancient story of male lovers, was well-known in Chinese culture and not regarded with shame or disgust. But among the Westerners it was publicly reviled. When in his fear Riley let the Chinese see his feelings, without his being aware of it they became protective and honoring of the relationship.

When Giró had recovered sufficiently from the anesthesia and his vital signs were considered stable enough by the doctor, he was placed in the back of Riley’s car and his driver took them to Riley’s high-walled compound in the International, British-American Concession.

Giró, heavily medicated, remembered little of that day either before or after Riley’s confrontation with his would-be kidnappers. He was placed in a room next to Riley’s own, with a door connecting the rooms. A fire was lit, and attendants fussed about, undressing and re-robing him in fine silk pyjamas. The right sleeve was torn to accommodate the cast on his arm.

While he slept under the drugs, they surreptitiously measured him for clothes, both Western and Chinese. Riley’s decision had been made for him, and he committed to it wholeheartedly now. Any doubts he might still have were small compared to the near-loss of Giró.

Riley changed clothes, had some tea and picked at a meal while Giró slept. He half-expected to hear the police beating at his door, but they never came. He was to learn later that the Shanghai Police were no fonder of Falconer and his gang of thugs than he was.

When Giró woke, he seemed relatively clear-headed. He looked around with curious eyes and refused laudanum. An unfamiliar place meant caution and the need for all his faculties. As soon as he saw Riley he let his guard down a little, but only just. Riley sat on the edge of the large, luxurious bed.

“You’re not in the House of Jade any longer, Giró. You need never go back there again. You’re in my home. You’re truly safe now, and I’ll show you the proof tomorrow. My home is your home, my servants yours. You have only to ask for what you need. And if you should need me in the night, I’ll be just beyond that door.”

Giró’s eyes flickered to the door and back to Riley, and then fixed on the draped window. Riley rose and pulled the drapes open, so that he could see that the lights on the street were few, and residential rather than garishly commercial. He opened the window for a moment so Giró could hear the silence, then shut it again. Definitely different than the streets surrounding the House of Jade. There was perhaps a further lessening in Giró’s physical tenseness.

“You can get up and see for yourself tomorrow, of course. Best stay in bed tonight I think - you’ve had quite the day.” Giró’s closed-off, rather faraway look told Riley nothing. He was as inscrutable as anyone Riley had ever met. It was disconcerting, but he knew Giró must have his reasons, born of years of fear for his safety at the least. He also knew that probing would have the opposite result to what he wanted.

“Would you like some tea, and rice?” Giró considered, and gave a slight nod. Riley went to the door and gave an order, then returned. “You’ll have some clothes of your own in a few days, both Western and Chinese. As you see, when I’m relaxed at home I often dress in the Chinese manner. I find it very comfortable. But you must do as you like.

“You must not simply say and do whatever you think pleases me, or that you think I want you to do, Giró. Your life is your own now. You may stay here. But if you don’t, I’ll pay for you to have your own place. Should you wish to return to Italy, or wherever your home was, I’ll see that you get there,” Riley told him. There was a flash of something in his eyes.

“I don’t want - “ He was interrupted by a tap on the door and a servant bringing in a tray. Giró looked at the food for a moment, but before Riley could bring him anything, he started to retch. Riley had time to grab a small waste bin before Giró lost the pitifully small contents of his stomach and continued to retch until nothing at all came up and he still gagged in shame and misery.

When he appeared to be done, Riley pressed him back into the pillows, wiping him down with a linen napkin and water from a bedside carafe. He realized that the flash in Giró’s eyes had been fear, and he’d been about to tell him that he didn’t want to go anywhere. Riley’s relief was shot through with sadness for Giró.

“I didn’t mean for you to think I wanted you to go,” he told Giró. “I only wanted you to understand that with me you have free will and can do what you want to do. Too many choices all at once after no choices for so long wasn’t very bright of me. You don’t need to go anywhere. I hope you don’t, but I wanted you to know you have the choice. I’ve just done it badly. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you.” Giró’s hand reached out so that his fingers touched Riley’s. It was his first physical gesture to make willing, conscious contact. Riley covered Giró’s hand with his own.

“I know this house will be strange to you, with unfamiliar servants. Would you like for me to arrange for Shen-Shen to come and work here, if she wishes?”

“You would do that?”

“I trust her, and she’s been kind to you; she likes you. And you don’t know it, but it was really she who saved your life,” Riley told Giró. “She deserves better than the House of Jade.”

“Yes, she does. Thank you…again.” Giró’s gaze softened as his eyelids grew heavy.

“Do you want to try some tea?”

“Later,” Giró mumured, half asleep. Riley was glad that he could sleep, and without the laudanum.

“All right. I’ll check on you,” Riley told him. He gave his hand a gentle squeeze, and he could swear that however lightly, Giró squeezed back. When Riley returned a few hours later, Giró was still deeply asleep - exactly what he needed. He turned out the light. When he went through the door to his own room, he left it open an inch or two so he could hear if Giró stirred during the night.

  
                                                                               ***

  
Giró had no idea of the time when he woke. The sun was full up and the drapes had been opened. Clothes were laid out for him on a chair, and still-warm tea sat on a tray beside the bed, along with some rice porridge. How to eat it - indeed, how to do much of anything with his right arm in a cast, was another matter.

The door opened, and Shen-Shen entered. Giró positively grinned at the sight of her, and embraced her as she came to the bedside. She was already wearing the clothes befitting a servant in a wealthy house. She was bursting with details of the day before, but she first helped him into the up-to-date Western bathroom to relieve himself, and then helped him dress. She fed him as she began to fill him in on what had happened at the House of Jade. She downplayed her own role, but Giró understood that if she hadn’t called Riley he wouldn’t be alive, and that the delaying tactics that earned her a black eye had given Riley more precious minutes. She told him of the man that Riley had killed when he hurt Giró, the one who would have taken him to Falconer. At mention of the name, he began to shiver. Silently, Shen-Shen added more wood to the fire, and wrapped him in a soft robe.

Shortly after she had finished, there was a tap at the door and Riley entered, carrying an English-language newspaper. Giró could see that the front page was splashed with photographs and large headlines, but he wasn’t close enough to read it. Shen-Shen spoke in a low voice to Riley when he questioned her. He told her to stay, and then brought the newspaper to Giró and placed it on his lap.

“Shen-Shen tells me that Falconer still troubles your thoughts. He won’t be a trouble to anyone again,” he announced, indicating the newspaper. Giró picked it up and began reading the front page in its entirety. When he reached a certain piece of information, he groaned aloud.

“He’s dead. Falconer is dead,” Giró whispered in Mandarin. He held out the paper to Shen-Shen and pointed with his left index finger to a photo of Falconer’s body. “Gangster-style execution” read the caption; the picture was ugly.

“Dead,” Giró repeated, his eyes going from the photo to Shen-Shen to Riley, who smiled grimly.

“I told you that you wouldn’t have to worry about him any longer. Now, you see. You are free of him, both of you,” Riley assured. He watched Giró’s eyes fill in emotion, and almost felt like an intruder as his eyes sought Shen-Shen’s. She murmured something to him, touched him gently on the shoulder, then bowed and left.

“You did all of that,” Giró whispered, gesturing to the newspaper, “because of me.” Riley said nothing.

“What did Shen-Shen say to you just now?” he asked curiously, wondering why she had left so suddenly.

“That it was because of me - as if I might still be so blind as not to know it, like a backward child,” Giró shook his head with a small smile, then looked at Riley.

“You know nothing of me, of my past. Who I was and the things I did before I came here. If it all frightens _me_ , why does it not at least give you pause?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Riley returned honestly. “The only thing I know for certain is how I felt inside the first time I saw you - and that I knew I couldn’t live without seeing you again.”

“Do you not understand what a burden that is? How frightening to me?” Giró pleaded. “The part of me that feels has been dormant a very long time. I don’t know if I can ever feel desire again, or true affection.”

“Shen-Shen.”

“But is it affection, or gratitude? I don’t trust what I think or feel. I don’t understand feelings any more. They make me uneasy. I can’t understand myself. Yes, or no - I don’t know any longer,” Giró shivered, looking miserable.

Riley knelt beside the bed, in front of him. He took Giró’s cold hands in his.

“I’m glad you’re being honest with me. Don’t be afraid of the future, just live one day at a time. That’s all anyone can do. Now that he’s gone, you can live the live you choose to live,” Riley told him. Giró nodded.

“For that I can never thank you enough,” he sighed.

“If you want to show your gratitude, simply begin to _live_ , Giró.” Riley rose, and left the room.

At his own liberty after years of servitude of one kind or another, Giró hardly knew what to do with himself. He slept, and ate, and bathed with Shen-Shen’s help, and she cut his hair and shaved him. He didn’t yet feel confident enough to explore the house, or venture outside. But when it grew dark and Riley hadn’t returned, fear began to grow in him. Riley hadn’t behaved as if he believed there would be any retaliation over Falconer’s death, but Giró wasn’t so certain. He began to fear for his benefactor, and dark thoughts raced through his mind. What if there had been a mistake. What if Falconer had survived. Or what if Riley was somehow angry with him and was avoiding him.

He was aware enough to feel a little foolish after his words about not being certain he could feel again. He didn’t say anything to Shen-Shen, who finally went off to bed. He went to the door connecting his room with Riley’s and peered into the room; Riley was not there. Back in bed, he couldn’t sleep.

Finally, after a long time - hours, he thought - he heard a noise in the room next door and saw a light under the door. At least Riley was safe; he would be content with that. But then the door opened wider with a faint creak, and he heard Riley walking across the room to the bed. He felt a light touch on his hair, and was shocked at how much he wanted that touch, and more. He sat up, and Riley gasped in surprise.

“Giró! Are you all right?”

“I’m only relieved that you have returned.” It was the truth, as far as it went.

“Were you awake because of me? I’m sorry. I had business. It couldn’t be put off, and it took longer than I thought it would. I’m well. Go to sleep,” Riley reassured him.

“I thought…something might have happened, because - “

“No, Giró. I’m fine, only tired.” Riley was surprised that Giró put a hand on his leg, to keep him where he was.

“Would you like me to sleep here tonight?”

“Yes. I would like that. I’m sorry. I feared for you.”

“It’s all right. I’ll be back in a moment.” His footsteps receded, and Giró wondered at what he’d just done. It had been purely spontaneous - no thought involved. The way Riley said he wanted him to live. He would try.

Riley was back. He slipped under the blankets to spoon behind Giró, his arm underneath the cast, resting lightly over Giró’s body. He was not naked; Giró had wondered if he would be, and was glad he wasn’t. He could make little sense of his feelings just now, and wasn’t certain how he might react, good or bad, to anything - whatever ‘anything’ might be. He wasn’t feeling particularly adventurous, however.

“Let me warm you.” Riley felt the chill in the man he held, both outside and within. He moved so their bodies touched, hoping his warmth would seep into Giró. He felt his trembling but said nothing, staying close.

Giró forced himself to stop thinking and just let himself feel. Riley’s warmth surrounding him was as comforting as he’d dared to imagine it might be. The soft puffs of breath against the back of his neck, the heat where his hand rested; it did comfort him, and he found himself relaxing into not just the body heat, but Riley’s warmth. Could this - what Riley envisioned between them - actually be possible? Perhaps it could, if he didn’t let his fear and the bad memories get in the way.

Giró felt the softest possible press of lips to the top of his shoulder, and the warmth of Riley’s cheek. Riley’s hand moved soothingly over his torso. He should feel trapped, surrounded, but did not. He felt more at peace than he could remember. He fell into a natural, healing sleep.

  
                                                                             ***

  
From that night, their relationship began to change. Giró vowed to himself to accept what Riley offered, and not to fear it. To embrace the life of freedom and affection that was set before him. There no longer seemed an important reason not to. He could only hope that Riley would respect his fears and hesitations.

For his part, Riley was overjoyed that Giró had expressed positive emotion towards him. That he was beginning to care for him, and trust him. It would be even more difficult to hold back, but now that he could see Giró responding to him, it would be worth the discipline.

The two of them began to go over Riley’s business dealings, at first in Giró’s room, still his sanctuary. When Giró knew the layout of the household and had thoroughly explored the rooms and their uses, he was welcomed into Riley’s office. Giró had a quick mind, Riley found, though his interests were somewhat different to his own. Some of Giró’s suggestions bore fruit within the business, and Riley got into the habit of consulting him on new projects and ideas. Eventually, Giró was introduced as his business partner.

Their life together began as a progression of firsts. Riley’s first attraction to Giró had been in its most basic element a simple physical desire. Giró’s attraction to Riley had been as a saviour; someone with the strength of will to pull him out of the dungeon of his own making, when he had lost his will along the way. Riley came to love Giró for his loyalty, his love of beauty and his desire for justice, among other things, and for the kind-hearted person he was. Giró rediscovered the joys of a physical partnership he’d believed he could never experience again.

Shen-Shen took delight in their slow union, doing everything she could to encourage Giró and caution Riley when his nature would have been too much, too soon. Patience, she told him, could yield great rewards. Let him find his own way to you, my Master, she’d advised. To Giró, she said accept the gift he gives you freely and with love. She could only hope that in the fullness of time, all would be as it was meant to be.

After that first time they had shared a bed, the next night Riley asked Giró if he wanted such closeness again. Giró had said yes, and the question was understood to have been answered for good. Things became simpler after Giró got his cast off, his arm was well healed, and he could move as he wished. That night, Riley came to bed to find Giró naked under the covers. He removed his own pyjamas and slid into Giró’s bed.

Very slowly, they explored every inch of each other’s bodies with tenderness and wonder. They exchanged fear and courage, restraint and gentle lust.

“I’m drunk on the smell of you,” Riley told Giró, raising his newly-freed arm and inhaling and nuzzling in the fine hair beneath it, rubbing against him like a cat.

“I love the feel of you, the hard muscles beneath my hands,” Giró breathed against his shoulder, running his hands over Riley’s lean flanks, dropping soft kisses there. “You are so… _here_ ,” he moaned. “And I **want** you here,” he admitted in surprise.

The simple touch of affection, neither needed to discuss. Their hands were not still for hours, and even when they slept, their close embrace remained. Giró allowed himself to be held in Riley’s arms, their genitals touching. His soft sounds of contentment filled Riley’s eyes with happy moisture behind closed lids.

“If you abandoned me now Leo, I could not bear it. I cannot live in the world without you,” Giró confessed. The use of his name touched Riley as deeply as the words. Giró had not called him by his name before when they were alone.

“Never. Never,” Riley promised firmly. He couldn’t imagine it any longer, under any circumstances. If he was Giró’s life, certainly Giró had become his.

  
                                                                     ***

 

“I must speak to you,” Giró began one morning after Shen-Shen had brought them breakfast. “There is - a favor I would ask of you.”

“You have only to ask and you may have it,” Riley smiled. “I should think you would know that.”

“The favor is not for me. It is…for Shen-Shen, and for us - for you, in a way.”

“Now you have me curious indeed. What is it?”

“I will take you to see, when we are dressed. We will need to go to the Chinese City. We should not take the most expensive car,” Giró warned, “or behave as if we are very rich.” He would say nothing more on the subject until they were in the car and near to the part of the city he had indicated.

“Shen-Shen was sold to the House of Jade when she was only thirteen,” Giró spoke suddenly. “Because…because of her years there, she cannot bear children - a doctor has told her this. If she cannot bear children, she cannot marry. But she longs for a family. We can do this for her, Leo, if you don’t mind very much. Stop here,” he indicated to the driver, “and wait.”

He took Riley upstairs into a cramped, poverty-stricken flat that seemed as if it might collapse into a pile of wooden sticks at any moment. The rooms were full of children of both sexes, staring silently at them. Riley realized they were for sale to the highest bidder.

Giró called out softly in Mandarin, and Shen-Shen came into the room, shepherding two children, a boy and a girl, who looked to be about six or seven years old. They were very thin, and their clothes were mere rags.

“They are twins. Some consider them lucky, so they will be bought quickly. There is not much time. Shen-Shen only told me two days ago. She would never speak to you about this,” Giró explained.

“Servants for the house?” Riley puzzled. “We don’t really need them, but - “

“No, Leo. A family. Shen-Shen will be their mother, and we will be their fathers. You have a business empire, but no one to leave it to after we’re gone. Your business and your life has been in China. They would ensure your memory and your accomplishments will live on here to the next generation,” Giró explained.

“Shen-Shen would never have said anything. Neither of us will beg you. Will you think on it, as…as a business proposition?” he asked. “But…quickly,” he added ruefully.

Riley regarded the children. Both had the spark of curiosity and intelligence in their eyes. The boy watched him, and Riley could see the wheels turning in his head as he did so. The girl stared boldly, bravely hoping for a future that would be more than servitude.

“You no doubt think me without feelings in such a matter,” Riley told him, “but I’m not. You know no more of my past than I know of yours. You’re right - we do need an heir. It was perceptive of you to think of it - and of course kind. Lord knows, Shen-Shen deserves a fortune for what she’s done - what she still does - for us. Children are a little enough reward. Of course the two of you shall have what you wish.”

Giró translated the agreement to Shen-Shen, who fell to her knees in tears before Riley. The children looked on bewildered, not entirely understanding the outcome.

“No, it is we who wil be forever grateful for your love, Shen-Shen. Stop crying.” Riley was embarrassed at her tearful gratitude. “Tell us what we must do, and we’ll take them away with us now.”

So it was arranged. The sum of money was much greater than it should have been, but Riley had it, and he had no hesitation in spending it to get something he wanted, so it changed hands, and the children were duly handed over to them.

Shen-Shen, ever practical in ways that neither man would think to be, asked for money for a rikshaw to take the children to a public bath house and to buy them some clean clothes before they went home.

Back in the car, on the way home, Riley sighed. “ _What_ have we done, Giró?” he asked, but he was smiling, his hand resting affectionately on Giró’s knee. “We shall have to give them names, have legal documents drawn up.”

“And for Shen-Shen.”

“Yes, of course, she’ll be protected, and termed their guardian as well; she’ll have rights, don’t worry. You do worry enough for both of us,” Riley assured and teased simultaneously.

“It is my nature,” Giró replied simply, content now. He no longer felt the need to apologize for everything. He let his head rest on Riley’s shoulder, clasping Riley’s hand in his lap.

“And it’s one of the reasons I love you so,” Riley returned, raising Giró’s hand to his lips. He wondered, bemused, what Shen-Shen was going to be telling the children about their fathers.

  
                                                                        ***

  
It was to be the last ‘night of firsts’ for Giró and Leo. After dinner, and after Shen-Shen had presented the children to them, well-fed, clean and decently clothed until finer clothes could be made for them, they made their way upstairs. Leo went into his room, calling out to Giró that he would join him in a while. But when he returned from his ablutions in the bathroom, he stopped dead.

Giró was in his bed, waiting for him. He hesitated for a few seconds, then got into bed. He took Giró’s face in his hands and looked into his eyes.

“Please tell me this is not gratitude, or some sort of misplaced feeling of debt, Giró,” Leo pleaded.

“You believe that?”

“I have good reason to wonder, don’t you think?”

“If it wasn’t tonight, it would have been tomorrow, or next week, or soon, without the children,” Giró told him. “You know we have been close to this; I know I have been close, Leo,” he assured him. “It has been coming awhile now. No better night for me, having felt your love so strongly today. But I cannot predict…all of my reactions,” he confessed, “and I ask for your understanding.”

Leo lightly smoothed his thumbs across Giró’s cheekbones, leaning in to kiss him softly on the lips several times. He pressed his forehead to Giró’s.

“There is one thing I will never ask of you. It’s not something I ‘need’ from you, or that I feel we are not complete without. Put it out of your mind that I expect it or want it from you,” Leo told him seriously. “I don’t need it between us to ‘feel like a man,’ I only need _you_ , Giró. _You_ make me happy.”

“And _you_ ,” Giró smiled, “make _me_ happy. Thank you,” he added in a whisper. He brushed Leo’s bottom lip lightly with his own lips, teasing. Up to now they had scarcely kissed. His tongue sought entry into Leo’s mouth, and permission was happily given.

Giró pressed himself against Leo, seeking skin-to-skin contact. He felt Leo shudder, and groan into his neck.

It occurred to Leo that Giró might well know some things about making love to a man that he did not. He thought about what would make them both feel good, and whispered into his ear, “Giró, make love to me. I need you to make love to me.” He had always taken the lead between them; it was Giró’s time now.

Giró heard the need in Leo’s request, and it filled him as much with tenderness as it did with desire. But desire was what Leo needed to feel from him tonight. And oh, it was true, Giró’s mouth was hungry for him, and Giró wanted to bring out the passion in Leo that Leo had returned to him.

So, even though in some ways it brought back the shadow of his days in the House of Jade, Giró seduced Leo with all the knowledge he possessed. His mouth incited, moving from Leo’s own mouth to his breastbone to his nipples, sucking, nipping and licking with Leo squirming beneath him.

He took Leo’s cock into his hands, teasing and twirling, stroking and caressing. Leo’s thighs opened for him, helpless and whimpering with need. He lowered himself over Leo, teasing Leo’s erection with his own.

Leo’s eyes were on him as he pressed their cocks together with his hand, using the weeping of their arousal to make the friction more comfortable. He brought his weight down to bear, and thrust his pelvis against Leo’s, devastatingly slow and heavy. Leo cried out and rocked up, desperate to make contact. His hands curled around Giró’s sides, fingers raking his back.

Giró wondered if it would sound like this when Leo made love to him - if he would lose all control and fill the room with primal animal sounds as Leo was; he hoped so. Leo’s body was slick with sweat that Giró lapped with his tongue, drinking in the taste and sharp scent. Leo shuddered and gasped at his touch. His hips moved in a sensuous dance, played like a musical instrument.

Giró picked up the pace, and Leo responded frantically. He tangled his fingers in Leo’s hair, pressed his open mouth hard against Leo’s, and ground himself down against him roughly. Leo yelped in shocked passion, and Giró felt the first spasms of his cock. He quickly pulled back and reached between them. As Leo erupted, Giró milked him with his hand and moved to swallow him. Leo keened a soft wail of relief.

He lay panting heavily for a moment before he moved to take Giró in his mouth. It didn’t take more than seconds before Giró came, moaning, to the touch of Leo’s lips. He repeated his lover’s name softly as his heart gradually stopped racing. They sought each other’s bodies almost blindly, curled together like tree roots as they fell temporarily senseless.

They would, however, wake in the night and make love again, sleep, and continue to please each other until the last sound Giró heard was the song of an early lark.

Giró heard a faint tap, and the soft click of the door opening. He could think of nothing to do but feign sleep. In a moment he felt a rough, wet cloth cleaning him of the joys of the previous night. When it stopped, but the bed still moved, he knew the same was happening to Leo. The bedcover was ripped away from them, quickly replaced by a new, clean one. He dared to open one eye, and saw Shen-Shen pick up the bedding with a rather satisfied smirk on her face, and leave. A breakfast tray sat on the dressing table.

“I hope,” Leo’s voice came from under the cover, “that isn’t going to be a new morning routine.”

Giró laughed. “I doubt it. But it was our wedding night, from her point of view.”

And so it was that peace and harmony came at last to the house of the Englishman and his _Xīn'ài_.

The children were named. Giró suggested Niccolo for the boy and Lucia for the girl. Leo reminded him they would have British passports, so they became Nicholas and Lucy. It might be assumed that they would feel only a duty towards their fathers, and true affection for their mother. Both Leo and Giró, however, took a genuine interest in them - talked to them like adults, but then played games with them like the children they were; even helped them with their schoolwork. They were sent to a British-run convent school in the city for a Western education. Both mastered English, and were good students. Shen-Shen had certainly had a wise eye.

Some two or three years after this, a bad epidemic of fever erupted across the city and many were stricken. As antibiotics did not yet exist, as with any epidemic there was little to be done except treat the symptoms and wait to see if the patient died.

Leo was struck down. He forbid the children or Shen-Shen to come anywhere near him. The children were kept at their school under quarantine until the epidemic danger was over. Shen-Shen could not visit them because she and Giró nursed Leo, who begged Giró to stay away from him.

“Are you mad?” had been Giró’s response. He had almost to be dragged from Leo’s side to rest and eat, and he listened to no one but Shen-Shen. When it was thought quite possible that Leo might die, he gave Giró all the information he needed regarding legal documents for the business, and for Shen-Shen and the children.

If the Chinese believed more in Fate, Leo knew that he survived only because of Giró. And in this instance, Shen-Shen agreed with him. It took him a long time to regain his strength, but eventually he was as healthy as before, though his hair was now slightly touched with gray. As Giró sat with him, Leo took his hand and looked into his eyes.

“There is to be no more reference, and no more thoughts, of lives owed, or saved, my Giró. Do you take my meaning?” he asked quietly. Giró bowed his head.

“Yes. All right,” he agreed, a slight smile curving his lips.

  
                                                                             ***

  
It was near their “anniversary”, as they thought of the night they had first shared all of themselves with each other. It had begun as a joke, but it became a special date to the two of them. They had been out to dinner, and now lay curled companionably together in the big bed.

“I once worked for him, you know. That is how it began.”

Leo was puzzled at the comment, which had come out of the blue. He looked over at Giró, and something in his eyes answered the question. He tightened his hold on Giró.

“What you did to Falconer’s man - what you ordered done to Falconer - that was my profession, Leo. I was an enforcer - an _assassino_. He was a business associate of my father’s. When I was fourteen, my father died. My mother had died at my birth. I didn’t want to live In Italy with relatives, so Falconer said I could stay with him.” Giró’s voice was strained, but Leo wasn’t going to stop him letting the story out.

“I was naïve for my age, I think. It wasn’t long before he took me to his bed. He wasn’t _as_ cruel then, but he was never considerate, or caring. I don’t know why I stayed with him. He poisoned my mind slowly, about the world, and my place in it, my worth. I would be worth something, he told me, if did his work and did whatever he asked of me.” Giró shivered, and Leo rubbed his back softly.

“I had nowhere else to go, and he educated me - private school, and university. But then my ‘work’ began. It wasn’t long before I hated it, and myself, and him. I tried to get away once, but he found me and brought me back. You might imagine how things went…physically. I was barely 22,” Giró whispered. “I had to continue doing as he demanded. I started planning, putting money into what I thought were secret accounts. I should have known better,” he laughed humorlessly. “I went to withdraw the money one day, and it was all gone. The bank manager would give me no explanation.

“I ran, across Europe. I sold my few possessions of any value, and then I sold myself. I was terrified. A man I slept with offered to take me with him to Shanghai. China, I thought - he’ll never follow me there.

“I was very afraid, and when I arrived here I had no money and no way to eat. My traveling companion disappeared into the city, or was murdered for a watch or a pair of cufflinks - who knows?

“I thought there were only two things I knew to earn money - sell myself or kill people,” Giró whispered in shame. “I was so desperately sick of doing the latter, and full of so much self-hatred, that I chose the former. I went to the House of Jade. And it wasn’t so many months later that he walked in the door. I was trapped again.”

“And then…you. I had never in my life known anyone like you. I was so afraid of you - afraid you could make me feel, when I no longer wanted to feel, ever again.”

“He would have killed you.”

“I know - I wanted him to. I just wished it wouldn’t take so long or hurt so much.”

Leo’s heart wept for the man, and the boy. His own life had been hard, but not like that.

“Now you have told me, there will be no secrets between us and no more reason for shame,” Leo told him. “The past is the past. It can’t be undone, but it doesn’t have to control us forever.

“I was the unwanted bastard of an English lord. I never knew my mother, as you never knew yours. I was shunted from school to school, relative to relative. I was the dreamer and the troublemaker,” Leo shook his head. “When I met my father, he wanted nothing to do with me. He paid money to keep me away from him. I had never done anything to him.

“So I became a success, to show him I was worth his notice. But I think he began to be afraid I might start talking about who my father was, or that the newspapers would dig it up. He made doing business in England or on the Continent very difficult,” Leo sighed. “So I came to Shanghai - and found you within a month of my arrival.”

“Shen-Shen and her talk of Fate and Fortune would make much of our stories,” Giró reflected. “And who’s to say without good reason.” He gave a half-laugh.

“I have never told you, Leo Riley, that I love you,” Giró breathed against Leo’s chest. “I have heard the words from your lips, but you have not heard them from mine. I love you. I love you more - much more - than life itself. Promise, you won’t ever leave me.”

It was the kind of thing that lovers, or husbands and wives, say to each other in the sweet, fearful agony of a desperately powerful love. Each knows it cannot be a promise rightfully made, and each would promise it anyway, so terrible is their love.

“I promise, my Giró.”

  
                                                                          ***

  
The Japanese would control the city soon; it was inevitable. Expertly forged passports and papers, created years before in anticipation of some unforeseen crisis, were presented to the British Consul and incense was burned at the temple by Shen-Shen, Lucy and Nick. Leo’s father was now dead, so there was little danger there. The house was boarded up and the family flew to London, where they rode out the War and Nick and Lucy went to university, earning degrees in art and business respectively. It would prepare them well to work in the family business.

After the War, they decided not to attempt to return to Shanghai, but instead settled in Hong Kong, where the business was once more successful. With Nick and Lucy assuming more and more responsibility, Leo, Giró and Shen-Shen could enjoy their retirement years and the fruits of their remarkable labors. They were happy years.

When Leo unexpectedly had a fatal heart attack at the age of 76, Giró was heartbroken. Leo had broken his promise after all. Nothing his children or Shen-Shen said could bring him out of his deep mourning and depression. As doctors had come to understand, it was indeed possible for someone to die of a “broken heart.” They found him in bed one morning, lying on one of Leo’s sweaters. He had passed peacefully in the night.

The children were devastated to have lost both fathers, but Shen-Shen told them not to grieve, for they were together in another life, and would now truly be with each other forever. As grief-stricken as she was, she would not leave her children in the way Giró had. With their fathers gone, they would need her guidance and the knowledge that Leo and Giró had passed on to her. And one day, when her time drew near, she would tell them what she knew of their fathers’ stories, for such powerful love and devotion must not be lost to time.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve never written an AU before in any fandom. This story just kind of wrote itself. Mr Du and the Green Gang were a part of Shanghai history. Small historical touches were researched. I vaguely think of Shen-Shen as the spirit of Zita somehow, looking out for The Boyz. “Jade” has references to sex in China. Jade Stalk means penis, Jade Cavern, Portal, or similar = vagina. A couple of main character names had to be changed but the characters are very recognizable. Every character wasn’t necessarily meant to be a full representation of DD characters (i.e. the children). Xīn'ài Means ‘beloved.’


End file.
